


Glad We're Friends

by Boogum



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Banter, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Marichat, chat noir may or may not detransform in front of her, except oh noes is that a blush and quickening heartbeat, friends hanging out, just my usual marichat shenanigans, soft moments, you know the drill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:00:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23139655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boogum/pseuds/Boogum
Summary: Marinette probably should have listened to her instincts the first time. It was risky to get too close to Chat Noir, even if they were just friends. (Because the fact her heart was pounding a little faster around him meant nothing at all. Absolutely nothing.)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 83
Kudos: 555





	Glad We're Friends

**Author's Note:**

  * For [carpisuns (maryssaj)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryssaj/gifts).



> Happy belated birthday, chatnoirinette! Sorry it took me 5ever.

Marinette bit back a smile. It wasn't a rare occurrence to see Chat Noir around Paris. He was much more active than she was as far as solo patrols went. This, however, didn't look like much of a patrol. This looked more like a teenage boy sitting on a bench and trying to stuff his face with as much crepe as possible.

"What's the akuma this time?" she asked. "The Crepe Master?"

Chat jumped, twisting to face her with his cheeks puffing out like balloons. "Ennfinry."

"Huh?"

He swallowed. "I was hungry."

"I think all of Paris can see that."

His ears flattened a little.

Wait, had she actually upset him?

"It was a joke," she said. "Trust me, you're not the only one with a sweet tooth. I'm definitely not judging. Just … you could take smaller bites and chew more, you know."

A smile tugged at his lips. "Are you saying I have no manners?"

She leaned over and wiped a bit of cream off his cheek, then showed it to him. "You tell me, ki—Chat Noir."

He glanced from the cream and then back to her. "That was a one-off."

"Uh-huh."

"It was."

"Yeah, I dunno. I've seen you eat pastries."

"For your information, I have excellent table manners." He popped the rest of the crepe into his mouth, his cheeks ballooning out again. A few chews, a big swallow, and then he grinned. "I just don't have to worry so much when I'm suited up."

She laughed. "Clearly."

He stood up and handed her a paper napkin so she could wipe off the cream on her hand. "Did you want one?"

"Huh?"

"C'mon." He slung an arm around her shoulders, guiding her towards the street cart. "My treat."

A part of her knew she should make an excuse. Much as she'd promised Chat Noir they could be friends after the whole Weredad debacle, it still wasn't smart to get too close to him as a civilian. The problem was that she did enjoy his company. He was kind, funny, and hanging around him as Marinette meant he didn't try to flirt with her every odd second. Not that she minded his flirting exactly. Sometimes he had terrible timing, but it wasn't like she didn't find him attractive or—

Nope. She was not going down that road again.

"What flavour do you want?" he asked.

"Ummm, strawberry and chocolate."

He ordered her one and a lemon curd crepe for him.

"Thanks," she said.

"It's my pleasure."

They settled back on the bench, knees bumping a little from the proximity.

It was surprisingly relaxing to eat crepes with him. Not too many people were at the park today, which meant they didn't have to compete with the sound of children screeching and running around. Just a shame about the weather. The sky was bruised grey and the air felt heavy.

"Looks like it's going to rain," she observed.

"Nah, it's just cloudy. We'll be—"

A drop of water splattered on his nose. This was quickly followed by another and another, and then a whole onslaught.

"Seems I was wrong," he muttered, pulling a face. He handed her his half-eaten crepe. "Hold this."

"Huh, what—"

He scooped her up into his arms so he was holding her bridal style. A laugh was startled out of her.

"Chat Noir, what do you think you're doing?"

"Taking you home. A true gentleman does not let his lady get soaked in the rain."

Heat tickled her cheeks, only getting worse when he flashed her a grin.

Did he realise he had called her _his lady_ , the same appellation he had given Ladybug? Did it even mean anything? Or was he just being his usual flamboyant self?

"Hold on tight," he said.

"I can't. I'm holding the crepes."

"That's what I meant. You're now the Crepe Defender. It's your duty not to drop them or let them get too wet."

She laughed. "Well, you better not drop me then."

"I would never!"

She was still laughing as he bounded away with her and headed for her house.

oOo

"I failed in my Crepe Defender duties," she said apologetically as he set her down on her balcony. "They got wet. I don't even know if these are edible now."

An easy smile curved his lips. "It's fine. I already ate one, and what matters is you're home safe."

He winked and turned to leave. She grabbed his arm.

"Where do you think you're going?" she asked.

"Uh …"

"Come inside." She tugged him towards the skylight. "I'm not going to make you go back into that downpour."

"I'm already soaked."

"That's beside the point."

He shrugged and followed her into her bedroom. She got a towel for him and went off to the bathroom so she could change into some dry clothes. When she came back, the towel he'd been using was soaked through and of no further use. His hair looked like a blond nest. A wet, blond nest. Water dripped from the ends and rolled down his suit, which she didn't need to touch to know it was damp.

This wouldn't do.

"What?" he said, tilting his head. A few more droplets dripped from his hair.

"You can't stay in that suit."

He choked on his own phlegm, coughing so much she had to pat his back. "C-come again?"

She folded her arms. "I don't want you to get sick."

"Thanks, but I'll be fine."

"Says you. It's turning into a storm out there, and who knows how long it'll continue."

Thunder chose that moment to growl.

"See," she said, nodding towards the window. "You can't go back out in that."

He didn't point out that he'd fought akumas who liked to throw storms at him. Perhaps, like her, he was also looking for an excuse not to part ways.

"I can't detransform," he said, shaking his head. "Much as I consider you my friend, I can't show you my face."

"I'm not asking you to show me your face. We could just, I dunno, sit back to back or something. Talk until the storm dies down."

He bit his lip. "I don't know …"

"I promise I won't look."

"I know you wouldn't …"

There seemed to be a _but_ tacked on at the end. She did not ask for clarification. Instead, her heartbeat quickened and she watched him closely, waiting for him to come to a decision. A part of her wondered why she was even pushing for this. It was unnecessary, reckless. He had every right to be hesitant.

But she still didn't want him to leave.

(Maybe that should have worried her more.)

"Okay," he said finally.

Her eyes widened. "Wait, really?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

The logical part of her could think of plenty of reasons for why they shouldn't be doing this, but she squashed those thoughts and shoved them into a box labelled _Ignore_.

She locked the hatch, just to make sure her parents wouldn't come in, and faced him with a smile that showed a bit too much teeth. "Um, so I guess we can just sit down here."

He nodded.

Two cushions were placed on the floor. She sat on one. His back brushed against hers as he sat on the other. The dampness that clung to him crept into the fabric of her shirt, leaving a shivering trail down her spine.

The silence ticked on.

"You … okay?" she asked. "If you don't want to do this, you can—"

"No." He let out a small laugh, and the sound passed through her like a gentle tremor. "No, it's fine. I trust you. I guess I'm just feeling a bit shy."

"You? Shy?"

"Hey! I'm trying to be honest with you here. You know, bare my soul and all."

She giggled at his dramatic tone, leaning back into him more so his wet hair tickled her neck. "Sorry. I'm just trying to picture it. You've never struck me as the shy type."

"You'd be surprised."

"Oh?" She nudged him with her elbow. "You telling me the great Chat Noir is actually a secret shy boy?"

"Maybe."

"I don't believe it. Anyone who prances around Paris in a cat suit like you do is not shy."

"What? I don't prance."

"Do too."

"I do not. I just … suavely make my way around Paris."

Her lips quivered. "Uh huh."

"I can hear your doubt."

"That's 'cause you're full of lies, you prancing cat boy."

He snorted. "Meowch. Maybe I should take my chances with the storm. You're not even being nice to me. I don't know why I bother to stay."

Her smile widened.

They were both quiet for a moment. He relaxed more against her, leaning back on his palms. His hand was in her view now, gloved in black. The glowing cat paw winked up at her from his miraculous.

"We can just sit here like this if you want," she said quietly. "I just wanted you to be comfortable because I can imagine it's a bit wet inside that suit."

"I would love to change back to my other clothes. It's just … I've never really done this before. Even the times Ladybug and I have had to detransform in front of each other, it wasn't like this."

Like what? What was he saying?

"You've detransformed in front of Ladybug?" she asked with what she hoped didn't sound like fake curiosity.

"Just with our eyes shut. We don't know each other's identities or anything."

"Ah."

He let out a small breath. "Well, here goes nothing."

It happened faster than she expected. Of course she knew the magic words he had to say, but he whispered them so softly that it was a struggle to catch any of it. Good kitty being thorough. Even if he claimed he trusted her, and even if he absolutely could, it was nice to know that he was still being cautious.

Green light flared. A black blur shot off, which was no doubt his kwami going off to find Tikki, and the dampness pressing into her back got replaced with warmth. She stilled. There was a moment where they just breathed together, getting used to the different sensations.

Wow. Okay, now she got what he meant by this situation being different. That was him touching her. _Him_ , no magical suit or mask. And there was nothing separating them except a thin barrier of trust.

Her heart thumped faster.

"See," she said, even as her cheeks grew hot. "It's not so bad like this."

His hand found hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You're right."

The heat in her cheeks burned hotter.

Ugh, why was she even blushing? It was just Chat Noir. Just Chat Noir, whose bare hand now held hers, warm and a little calloused. He must have a hobby that involved his hands a lot. Something like—

Nope, nope, nope. She was not going to dwell on this.

"What are you thinking?" she blurted, desperate for a distraction.

"Just that I'm really lucky."

"Huh?"

His head bumped hers, almost like a gentle kitten boop. "I have this amazing friend, you see. She's funny, kind, makes sure I have proper shelter from the rain …"

"Oh?" If her face was hot before, it was on fire now. "She sounds pretty nice."

"She is. I'm really glad I know her. You don't even know how happy it made me when she agreed to be my friend."

His thumb brushed against her knuckles in a soft caress. Marinette bit her lip, her stomach fluttering and her heart losing itself to a stuttering rhythm.

"Chat …"

"Mm?"

Her tongue got stuck. There was no way to tell him that he couldn't say things like that, not without exposing the effect he was having on her. He was her friend, her partner. He wasn't supposed to be able to whisper to her blood or shatter her composure with a simple touch.

She glanced down at their intertwined hands. Bare skin against bare skin. His ring was silver now. In fact, it was kind of familiar …

The drumbeat of her heart pulsed in her ears. She slipped her hand free of his, but only so she could run her fingertip over his ring. He sucked in sharp breath, tensing.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"It's okay," he said just as softly. "You just surprised me. Normally people only touch my miraculous when they're trying to steal it."

This was getting dangerous. The hushed voices, the intimacy.

She swallowed. "Maybe that was my plan all along."

A laugh was startled out of him. "Are you trying to tell me you're Hawkmoth?"

"Maybe."

"I don't believe it."

She dared to trace the circular space on his ring where paw print should have been. "Why not?"

"Because …" He shifted off the cushion, removing his warmth from her back. "Because I'm right here, and you still haven't looked."

He was facing her. She knew it, felt it in every breath. One little peep over her shoulder and she would see him.

"Now you're just being reckless," she muttered.

"No, I'm not."

"You trust me that much not to look? Even I get curious, you know. Perhaps I've always wanted to know your identity, and let's not forget I could still be Hawkmoth. Or Mayura."

He laughed and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "But you're not, and you wouldn't."

"What makes you so certain?"

"Because I know you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You'd never do anything to break my trust."

Fresh heat bloomed on her cheeks.

He hugged her closer, resting his chin on the top of her head. It was far too snuggly and nice. Her stomach wouldn't stop fluttering around like all of Hawkmoth's butterflies had been set loose in there, and her heartbeat was just a skipping, stumbling mess.

"What are you thinking?" he murmured.

_That I think I like you._

She placed her hand over his, grateful that he could not see her blush. "Nothing much. Just that I'm also glad we're friends."


End file.
